


The way down we go

by Darksilversilhouette



Category: Chapters: Halo (Visual Novel), Fallen Angel - Ella Frank, Halo - Ella Frank
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mostly canon compliant until it isn't, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, not a song fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilversilhouette/pseuds/Darksilversilhouette
Summary: Massive world tours. Over a hundred million albums sold. Groupies galore. Every day is a party for the guys of TBD, one of the most popular rock bands in the world. But it all comes to a screeching halt when the lead singer walks out of the studio one day and never comes back. Without a lead singer, pre-booked events fast approaching, and their record label turning up the pressure, it’s not only their career but the band that they'd formed together all those years ago that’s at stake.On the other side of New York City, Jade a.k.a. Halo, is a struggling musician taking up underpaying gigs at dive bars to make ends meet. After all, having a roof over your head is better than sleeping on the streets. Not letting the soul-crushing reality of life extinguish the flame within him, he decides to audition for the band that he's been listening to for roughly a decade.Pressing SEND, he didn't expect his life to change so thoroughly and utterly that once he looks back, even he wouldn't recognize himself.
Relationships: Halo/Viper, Possible past Viper/Trent Knox
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter One

_No one’s gonna take my soul away,  
_ _I'm living like Jim Morrison—…_

*huff*

 _Headed towards a fucked up holiday,  
_ _Motel sprees, sprees and I’m singing—…_

*huff*

 _“Fuck yeah, give it to me,  
_ _This is Heaven, what I truly want.”_

*huff*

 _It’s innocence lost,  
_ _Innocence lost…_

He was late. Restlessly tapping his foot to a hurried yet nonexistent beat, it took every ounce of willpower he could muster to wait for the traffic light to turn green. The moment it did, he took off again, swerving between other pedestrians as he ran down the 6th avenue; not having any time to spare to look at the storefronts and to observe the buildings he was passing by, he wished that he’d left earlier but it was too late for that now. Turning left onto West 8th street, a breathless smile curved his lips since he didn’t have to wait for yet another light.

_Almost there…_

_In the land of Gods and Monsters,_

The Electric Lady Studios was right on the other side; now, to cross the street without getting himself run over… 

_I was an angel,  
_ _Looking to get fucke—…_

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He blurted out as something sent him sprawling on the ground just as he stepped onto the pavement.

Without his headphones to block out the background noise, it was as though the passersby who’d witnessed his tumble were joining the chorus of his mind’s self-deprecating comments. His day couldn’t get any worse. Not only was he going to audition sweaty and smelly, he was going to look like something the cat dragged in as well. Why would TBD want someone like him as their lead singer? Who was he kidding?

“Damn kid, you okay?”

Before he could self-flagellate more, a dark, velvety bass voice called from in front of him. Glancing briefly at his guitar case that lay haphazardly next to him as he contemplated remaining where he was, Jade raised his head to regard the stranger who was offering him a hand.

Grayish teal irises followed those extended fingers upward, across a red sleeve to raw umber curls that fell onto a leather-clad shoulder. They framed a square visage, and as their owner half-crouched in an attempt to repeat his offer, those dark mahogany tresses fell into his face from where they’d been tucked behind his ear. But even then, there was no mistaking who was standing right in front of him.

Viper.

The lead guitarist of TBD. The bad boy. The rebel. The player. The heartbreaker. Or at least that was his reputation. A whole lot of rumor circulated around him, especially after their notorious lead singer, Trent Knox quit the band right after a smashing world tour; that they were together and things going south between them had left the band in a lurch.

Which was why Jade was here in the first place…trying to replace the possible ex-boyfriend of the guy who was offering to help hoist him to his feet. Behind the striking figure Viper cut, the facade of the two-story building of Electric Lady Studios loomed above him, still sprawled on the pavement as he was. 

Am I really doing this? The thought had crossed his mind for more times than he could count from the very moment Killian Michaels had called him himself, telling him that he’d seen the audition video he’d sent, asking if he could come in for a face-to-face. It’d never stopped being surreal, but somehow, taking those digits felt like sealing his own fate.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that it was _Viper_ , one of his rock idols, who was literally giving him a hand, or that the man might hate him for trying to take his ex’s place. What mattered was that he’d come all this way, and the thought of playing at those half empty dive bars without having given this a chance was enough to eat him out alive.

_Not to mention what Imogen would do to me when she figures it out._

It might have felt like it’d taken forever for him to gratefully accept the proffered hand, but there were no traces of impatience on the older man’s visage nor was he giving him any awkward looks.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Jade muttered somewhat quietly as he rose to his feet. Despite the ephemerality of their contact, the warmth of those callused digits lingered; even as Viper addressed him yet again, a tinge of playfulness coloring his tone.

“Don’t thank me,” A hint of a smirk played on pale cerise lips, “I’m the one who knocked you over after all.” 

Slowly, as if pushing through the haze of his adrenaline rush, the bewilderment of standing right in front of one of his adolescent-years rock idols and casually chatting with him took over. But then again, chatting implied that he also talk instead of staring mutely as he was. It took him a moment then to notice that the umber-haired guitarist was bending over to retrieve his case that had been lying dejectedly at their feet.

When Jade actually moved to do it himself, it was already late, and the texture of the fabric was pressed against his fingertips. The automatic urge to express gratitude nearly passed the part of his lips before the older man beat him to it.

“Nice case. Almost as good looking as its owner.”

There was no stopping the heat that rose to his cheeks, especially when Viper tossed him a wink, and his rationale asking for what that even meant or if it was even a compliment could not withstand it. The realization that it was perhaps an attempt at flirting came much much later, even after Viper waved and threw a ‘Gotta run, I’m late for an audition’ over his shoulder; it was only after he’d disappeared through the front door that Jade snorted at the cheesy line, smiling a small smile as he dusted off his clothes and tried to make himself slightly more presentable all things considered.

_“I’m late for an audition.”_

The realization that Viper was late for _his_ audition, and that he himself was late too spurred him into motion. Entering the studio in a haste, signing with the receptionist and barrelling down the stairs, he decided that he’ll have enough time for sightseeing after things were over. Still, the fact that there wasn’t an inch or corner that didn’t have some story to tell wasn’t lost on him. Every wall of the studio was steeped in history and housed a token from its many legendary clients.

A portrait of Jimi Hendrix gazed up at him from where it was perched on the far wall of the landing. And maybe it was that photo that reassured him slightly as he made his way down; the warm fiery-orange color scheme also seemed to ease his frayed nerves, the cool of the wall-mounted metal handrails providing him a temporary relief… Sprinting across the lounge en route to the studios A and B, Jade only spared a cursory glance at the record albums adorning the wall, hardly noticing the oriental rug muffling his already dulled footfalls.

The tunnel that stretched in front of him somehow seemed neverending, the inspiration of the lengthy mural on his right totally lost on him as his pace faltered.

_What if—_

“—ver gets you through it,” a guy in a jacket hoodie combo appeared at the end, lowering his arms from where he’d been holding his hands in the air as though in surrender before turning to walk in his direction…

Only to notice him standing there like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey there.” 

Killian Michaels.

Suppressing the urge to pinch himself to make sure this was all somehow his reality now, Jade continued to stare mutely as the bassist of TBD glanced over his shoulder back toward the studio. When that dirty-blond-wreathed head turned toward him again, its owner waved him over. “I see you found the place okay?”

Nodding on autopilot and with his feet moving of their own accord, Jade couldn’t help but notice how different Killian looked from the rocked-out persona he used on stage; his usually styled hair was mussed up, somehow still screaming indifference though of a different variety, and his outfit was pretty down to earth; nothing like the look Viper had been rocking when they’d literally ran into each other earlier.

“Hi,” he finally broke his verbal fast once they were at arm’s distance, to which the bassist replied in kind, smiling as he did and with a kindhearted sparkle lighting up his hazel eyes.

“I’m Killian,” the older man introduced himself, as though everyone in the free world didn’t already know who he was, holding out his hand once Jade came to a stop in front of him.

“Halo.” Blurting out his stage name automatically, he loosened his hold from where he’d been holding onto the strap of his guitar case in order to give him a firm handshake. 

One of Killian’s eyebrows rose. “That your real name?”

“Is Killian yours?” It came out before Jade could stop it, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the anxiety had overflowed his brain to mouth filter. To his surprise, however, instead of being offended, Killian laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I like a smartass. Come meet the guys.”

The bassist ushered him inside, and the realization that _‘this is it’_ immediately overwhelmed him: the very studio that Jimi Hendrix designed and built to his specific taste, past the twin doors that separated the soundproof room from the rest of the world, and him from his imminent future—whether he got into the band or not. 

A black curtain bearing the name of the studios covered the far wall, next to another mural which was dimly lit by the hidden lighting that gave the place a club-like atmosphere. Pendant lamps hung over a baby grand piano which neighbored a pair of corn plants, and the rest of the place was illuminated by can lights that were mostly off save for the ones above the only couch in the circular space. It reflected off the polished wood floorboards in places the ground wasn’t covered; half a dozen antique persian rugs of varying patterns and colors crowding the rest, creating invisibly separate spaces which housed the multitude of vintage instruments.

Every single facet of this studio had its own personality and history.

“Hey hey,” Jagger, the keyboardist for TBD, gave him a winning smile from his station behind his pride and joy. Dressed to the nines in a long-sleeved collared shirt and matching slacks only a few shades darker than his skin, he was the impeccably put-together charmer of the band; and it showed. It was hard to miss the gold Audemars Piguet on his wrist, or the diamonds winking from the rings on his fingers. “You must be Halo.”

“And you’re Jagger,” he uttered playfully, glancing at Killian who’d introduced himself earlier before regarding the aforementioned keyboardist who winked at him. 

_Shit. They’re right there._

Killian nudged him toward the front and center of the room as he nodded toward the man covered from neck to toe in colorful tattoos. “Halo, meet Slade.”

With a piercing stare and his head shaved except for the two-inch-thick section at the top that he sometimes mohawked out, the drummer of TBD cut every bit of the inspirational figure Jade thought him to be every time he watched their music videos or followed them on tour. Slade—seated behind his Gretsch house kit—twirled his drumsticks through his fingers before pointing them toward him in greeting; and it took every ounce of Jade’s willpower not to fanboy right then and there, or to stop the _‘Cool!’_ remark that wanted to break past his lips so bad.

That left the last member of TBD who was sprawled across the leather Chesterfield couch right under the control room window.

“And this is Viper.” 

Meeting TBD’s lead guitarist’s eyes, there was no way to know what was going through that dark-wreathed head. With an ankle thrown over his knee and casually stroking his lip with his forefinger, his body language seemed relaxed, or bored even. Perhaps the older man was assessing him; which in that case meant he was screwed, because Viper was the toughest critic of the group.

“So, I watched Halo’s video last night, and I gotta tell you—really good stuff.” Killian addressed both him and his bandmates as he made his way toward the couch, gesturing toward the upholstered stool for him to take his seat behind his back. “Show us what you got.”

As though in slow motion, the comforting atmosphere of the room which had set him somewhat at ease along with Killian’s good-natured welcome slowly diminished. Jade’s heart began to pound a bit harder and his mouth suddenly felt dry as he settled, bending down to unzip his guitar case; which he somehow miraculously managed to do on the first try considering how his hands were beginning to shake under the scrutiny of the four pairs of eyes he had on him now.

“Uh,” flicking the box braids that fell into his face over his shoulder, he tried to imagine that this was yet another dive bar he was playing at, the crowd half listening, but to no avail. _Just breathe,_ he told himself as he tuned up his guitar, looking up and around the room before continuing with what he’d wanted to ask. “Was there something in particular of yours you’d like me to play?”

Killian shook his head. “Anything you like.”

Nodding, Jade plucked quietly at the strings as he debated whether to go for it with one of TBD’s biggest hits.

_Fuck it. Go big or go home, right?_

And it was decided then. The opening notes of the song began floating in the room before he settled into the rapid, raw riffs of the intro that fed off his nervous energy from before, releasing it in waves reminiscent of how the audience moved when TBD performed it on the stage. His voice came naturally to him then, as he transitioned to the verse, losing himself in the music, the melody. It’d always been his passion, the only place he could find solace whenever the world became an unbearable place. And he let that color the words as he sang; he knew that he was a baritone while Trent was a tenor, but he matched the lyrics that had been written for TBD’s original lead singer note for note. With every string he strummed, it felt like baring that part of himself he only let shine through when the realm of chords and tones overwhelmed him.

Closing his eyes as he let the last note of the outro drizzle and peter out, he felt a strange sense of pride at not having screwed it up considering who he was playing to: his heroes, at a studio his other ones had recorded songs at and played at as well. It was short-lived, however, because the silence that surged in seemed deafening to his ears. A part of him wished that when he opened his eyes, he’d wake up in his bedroom just as he had earlier this morning; because, simply, the idea of being rejected when he’d poured all he had and all he was into was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole in a wall and disappear. 

_Just breathe._

Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Jade slowly raised his head to meet the eyes of the only person in the room who he knew would have no outward reaction whatsoever.

Viper.

The older man’s visage was impassive, betraying no signs of whether he’d liked his rendition of their song or not. That was good enough for him, because he couldn’t bear to look at the members of the band only to see disappointment and— 

“Wow,” Killian’s comment jarred him out of his thoughts, already up on his feet as he slow-clapped. “I told you he was good, didn’t I?”

“Good?” Jagger said and then chuckled, a rumbling sound that was instantaneously contagious, but Jade was too stunned to react. “That was awesome, man.”

To his left, Slade was nodding in agreement but not offering much more than that; which brought both his teal irises and Killian’s hazel ones back to the only person who’d been quiet throughout the whole sesh.

“Well?”

Holding Viper’s gaze, it was only then that Jade noticed how tense he’d become, as though the blood had somehow frozen in his veins and if he wasn’t careful, he’d drop his guitar. Subconsciously holding onto it harder, he continued to wait out the man’s response to what Killian had asked of him. The same fingers that had helped Jade up earlier slowly rose to rub a stubbled chin, those cerise lips pursing slightly as their owner appeared to be contemplating before he finally spoke his mind.

“Not bad.”

“I can play another if you like?” Not missing a beat, Jade offered, in hopes to right any mistakes that he might’ve made or to somehow top what he’d believed to be his best performance until Viper had commented.

“No need,” Killian shook his head before the recipient of his query could have a say. “Why don’t you pack up and get comfortable so we can shoot the shit a little?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, I'd thought I wouldn't read the book but somehow I ended up doing it when the idea of writing this story didn't leave my mind after a couple of days. And considering how it left me unsatisfied, along the game that introduced the series to me, I thought why the hell not? This isn't my usual cup of coca cola, since I don't drink tea, but it might be just the thing I need to get around my writer's block and start working on my other story.
> 
> I apologize for the typos. Also, the song at the beginning is Lana Del Rey's Gods and Monsters, which obviously I don't own but enjoy very much.


	2. Chapter Two

If he hadn’t known the man since they had all been a bunch of rug rats, he would’ve thought that Killian Michaels was a sadistic fuck.

Trying his damnedest to hide a raging hard-on from the individual who had caused it—who was currently being  _ interrogate-er, interviewed  _ by his bandmates, pretty standard shit—Viper tried to actually listen…

“How old are you?” Killian queried next to him. A pretty standard question, basically the easiest one in the book, but it took Halo an infinitesimal moment to answer. 

“I’m in my twenties.”

“How’d you get into music?” Jagger was the next one to go at the youngest in their midst.

“I played an instrument as a kid…” A self-conscious smile stretched over the hopeful rocker’s mouth before he looked in the direction of the keyboardist, pushing the ebony braids over his shoulder in what-seemed-to-be a nervous gesture as he did. “Guess I started at a young age.”

“A lifetime of hard work, eh?”

“I mean, I  _ guess. _ ”

“Whatever it was you took to it.” Slade affirmed good-naturedly, faint traces of a smile coloring his facial features, which on anyone-else’s visage except for their drummer meant beaming from ear to ear. “Okay, I got one.” Just as quickly, however, his expression turned dead serious as he leaned forward. “It’s the end of the world and only one superhero can save you. Who do you choose?”

Jagger snorted. “ _ Seriously? _ ”

_ What the hell does that have to do with whether he’s right for the band? _ Viper almost gave in to the urge to roll his eyes, especially when Slade put his hand up, blocking out any further protest, and then motioned for their potential lead singer to go ahead.

“I guess I’d pick Black Widow.” The silence stretched on a bit, before the individual in the center of the room added, “She’s scary, man. In a good way.” Another short pause followed, during which Halo seemed to muster up the courage to ask them in return, “How about you guys?”

…but the brunet’s mind was already elsewhere.

For example, it was ruminating on the thought that nothing changed the fact that their bassist was indeed a  _ sadistic fuck  _ for waking all of them up at the asscrack of dawn when he  _ knew _ how much Viper hated early mornings.

Or the thought that maybe it did change it, and maybe the blond guy sitting next to him wasn’t a fucker— _ Trent was _ —for if he hadn’t summoned them here today, there was no chance Viper would’ve literally run into the gorgeous man he’d seen earlier on the street. The first thing his mind had come up with when he’d first laid eyes on whom-he-now-knew-as Halo had been  _ ‘Hot damn!’ _ , hence the cheesy line he hadn’t been able to withhold, and that he’d have loved to somehow get into those indigo jeans—

—Who could blame him? The guy was a fucking showstopper. His long ebony braids contrasted exquisitely with his pale complexion, framing that face of his as he’d looked up to him from where he’d been sprawled on the sidewalk. And what a beautiful face, Jesus,  _ Fuck! _ It was perfect. Almost otherworldly. Full cerise lips, and with eyes a greyish shade of cyan…he was almost too damn gorgeous to look at. And when he’d talked, his kissable mouth forming those words in that baritone of his, Viper knew he was fucked. Only, he didn’t know how fucked he was until Halo turned out to be the audition he’d been late to; and then, he’d heard him sing the song Killian and he had written two years ago…in that deep, sexy voice that traveled down his spine and deep into his soul, and apparently made his dick hard—

_ Get your fucking head out of the gutter. _

This wasn’t helping any. Not that Killian’s earlier comment in response to his disagreement had been any better either. 

_ “I’d say that’s a positive response. Wouldn’t you? If he can do this to you, imagine what he could do to an arena full of screaming fans.” _

Grinding his teeth as he had back then, he couldn’t help but admit that okay, Killian had a point, and fuck him for that. But that didn’t mean Viper was ready to subject himself to this kind of torture day in and day out. He’d been there and done that, and look how that turned out.

“Was there something you wanted to add, V?” his longtime friend asked, looking pointedly at him.

Resisting the urge to glare daggers at his very first bandmate in return, the guitarist resigned himself to not doing anything whatsoever in regards to his predicament. There was no way he could fix his crotch without it being totally obvious, and he couldn’t exactly leave in the middle of their  _ very important _ meeting. He’d sit this through, come hell or high water, and then, he’d give Killian a piece of his mind. 

His dark gaze traveled back to Halo’s teal ones.

Besides, give up the chance to know more about this angel who’d fallen straight from heaven into their laps?

No way in hell. 

Keeping the smirk that wanted to crawl over his lips at bay, he leaned back and stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. Fuck Killian, and god damn him, too. He couldn’t say that Viper didn’t warn him.

“Okay, Halo… If you could change something, anything, about the band, what would it be?”

* * *

“YO, V. PIZZA OR MEXICAN?” Killian called out from his library, busy fetching them a stiff drink after the  _ longass  _ day they’d had. Back to back meetings with the MGA—the record label which wasn’t going to “continue funneling money into a sinking ship” unless they found a lead singer ASAP—and dealing with their manager Brian—who somehow seemed to become more of a dick with each passing day—was something all four of them hated with equal passion. But it was a necessary  _ evil _ , especially after the audition they’d had today… The previous ones had gone nowhere fucking fast. But today’s…today’s had been a different story altogether.

Slumping into one of the leather couches in his longtime friend’s sprawling penthouse, Viper caught himself reaching for his phone to watch Halo’s video yet again, the one Killian had emailed them the other night. “Pizza,” he muttered irritatedly as he tossed the device toward the other end of the sofa, out of immediate reach in an attempt to curb the temptation, not that it stopped the images stuck in his head. Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes but to no avail, he realized that the other occupant of the house couldn’t have possibly heard his reply due to the sheer vastness of the place; so, he repeated louder only for Killian to just walk in with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

Placing everything on his guitar-shaped coffee table, the bassist grabbed his cell instead, his shrewd hazel irises observing him with a strange expression as Viper reached forward to pour both of them a drink at long last.

_ Finally. _

Shrugging once he realized there would be no further words from the umber-haired man, Killian called the number and rattled off their usual toppings as he paced in front of the wall-to-ceiling windows. Something was going on in that blond-wreathed head, judging by how restless he was, but once he was done with placing their order, his childhood friend finally stopped and looked his way.

Whether it was an attempt at a staring contest or to gauge something based on Viper’s expression, the aforementioned man didn’t know. He just knocked his drink back before reaching for another round. He had known the other individual in the room long enough to have a few guesses as to what his bandmate was working himself up to, but he had no intention whatsoever to be the one who began that conversation.

So much for giving Killian a piece of his mind. 

Letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair, the other occupant of the room settled in his favorite club chair, propped his ankle on his knee before finally asking. “What’d you really think about Halo today? He was good, huh? Did you finally look at the video I sent you the other night?”

_ Yeah, sure. _ That was one way to describe him. Probably not the way he would. Had he looked at it? That would be a very firm affirmative. But surely, Killian didn’t want to know how he couldn’t stop thinking about the way the individual in question might look stripped naked in Viper’s bed. Or how he had—

_ Never thought you’d make me perspire…  _

No, it wasn’t Placebo’s My Sweet Prince that was coming out of the headphones he’d snagged from some hapless stranger on his way to the bathroom of the Electric Lady Studio.

_ Never thought you’d  _ fuck  _ with my brain…  _

It was all in his head, the throbbing rhythm of the song marked the ebb and tide of the pleasure drizzling down his spine and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. It was the melody that he timed the strokes of his hand with as he held his phone in the other and watched that beautiful face on the screen. 

_ Never thought I’d fill with desire…  _

The younger man’s dulcet tones filled his ears, the sight of those turquoise irises filled his vision whenever Halo opened those gorgeous eyes to look into the camera as he sang…his artistic, articulate fingers danced captivatingly over the strings of his guitar as he strummed, and Viper  _ wanted… _

_ My sweet prince… _

A rough, tremulous exhale passed the part of his lips, and he found himself sighing soundlessly along…  __

_ “You are the  _ one _ ,” _

_ My sweet prince…  _

_ You are the one. _

Faster, the pounding of his heart double-timed.

_ You are the one…  _

Hard and heavy, the tension in his limbs was building in tune with the guitar riffs Halo plucked out of those strings.

_ You are the one. _

The music in his head matched the tempo of his hand,  _ harder,  _ leading his physicality in its undulating dance against the wall _... _

_ You are the one…  _

One moment, solemn and commanding;

_ You are the one. _

And the next, beseeching, just as he was yearning for more… 

_ You are the one…  _

Seeking those bottomless pools as he gazed feverishly at Halo who’d closed his eyes, losing himself to the melody just as he’d in his audition...and just as Viper was giving in to the heady haze of his pleasure, fighting harder to keep his eyes open.

_ You are the one. _

_ You are the one… _

_ You are the one. _

Dark-wreathed eyelids opened, and the sight of teal irises followed him over the edge _. _

_ My sweet prince, _

“ _ Haaahhh… Haaahhh…” _

_ My Sweet prince…  _

—masturbated to the video in question. “Yeah,”  _ No _ , was the noncommittal response.  _ Killian definitely didn’t want to know. _ “Like I said, he’s not bad, and yeah, I looked.”

“Not bad, my ass. That guy is fucking brilliant. Admit it.”

“And what do you want me to say, Kill? He’s good. Really  _ fucking _ good.” He left the  _ ‘but’ _ unspoken, however, Killian was sitting there and giving him his  _ ‘but what’ _ look.

_ To hell with this _ . 

“He makes my dick hard, okay? I can’t stand on a stage with that guy. Did you see him? He’s too damn pretty for his own good.”

“Which is exactly why he’d be perfect for TBD.”

Apparently, his longtime friend had lost his mind. 

“Are you  _ deaf? _ I just told you that—”

“I know exactly what you told me. I saw it too. But I’m not worried. He’s straight. Didn’t you hear the lyrics in the second song he wrote?” It took everything within Viper’s power not to snort, but he did roll his eyes. To which, Killian grinned as he explained by what means he’d obtained this piece of information. “He was singing about his broken heart—about how she broke his heart.”

Seriously?  _ Way to go, Kill.  _ A dark eyebrow winged upwards at his friend’s  _ groundbreaking _ method for discovering the guy’s sexual orientation. His bandmate had never had that good of a gaydar, but it seemed to be malfunctioning even worse than usual. 

Oblivious to his skepticism, however, the bassist was continuing, “But good to know you didn’t notice. You think he’s sexy. And you think he’s sexy singing our songs. I haven’t seen you act that way since—”

His dark glare had Killian biting off the name of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named before he could utter it as he scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Chemistry, V. It’s all about chemistry on that stage. You know that better than anyone, and you need to have it with our frontman.”

“ _ Chemistry? _ If I have any more chemistry with him, I just might explode all over him.”

The other occupant of the room snorted. “Maybe keep that to yourself when we call him back in, yeah? Don’t want to scare off the newbie.”

Knocking back the rest of the drink he’d been nursing, Viper closed his eyes. He’d known that there was no point discussing this from the very beginning of the conversation, even before Kill had opened his mouth. If there was, they wouldn’t have had all those meetings throughout the day to begin with. Sighing defeatedly, he placed the now-empty glass back on the coffee table and leaned forward, his visage and tone both dead serious as he asked one last time.  


“So, we’re really going to do this? Invite a guy into the fold who looks as pure as a  _ fucking  _ angel?”

“Hey, people find the idea of corrupting someone just as hot as they do taming the bad boy. Women and men are gonna love it. His face and our words coming out of his mouth. We can play with that. Plus, Halo’s voice is killer, and his guitar playing was off the chain. He didn’t fuck up once today, even though he had to be nervous. And I know that impressed you.”

Damn Killian. Really. Damn him to hell and back. The asshole knew his weaknesses too well, and the fact that Halo hadn’t messed up the music had been his one-way ticket to the next round. “I can’t decide if you’re hiring him as our frontman, or trying to convince me to sleep with him.” When the owner of those hazel irises gave him a long, unimpressed, yet also exasperated look, Viper let his hands fall with a smack onto his lap as he leaned back in his seat. “Fine, fine…I guess I’m in.”

“I’m going to pretend you don’t mean that in any way other than—in with the plan.”

_ No promises,  _ but the umber-haired guitarist didn’t say that. His longtime friend was smart enough to know what he’d be inviting if he brought Halo back for more—but that wasn’t Viper’s problem. Watching as Killian poured both of them more whiskey to celebrate, a wolfish grin slowly unraveled the seam of his lips.

* * *

After two large pizzas each with their go-to kind of toppings and just enough booze to have them tightroping that fine line between inebriation and sobriety, they were both sprawled on the couch Viper had initially occupied, the afterglow of a laughing smile still coloring his lips as he parted them to partake in his drink. 

It hadn’t been his intention to stay the night at Killian’s place, but it was yet another one of those nights that they’d both eaten until they were nearly bursting, imbibed far too much—not that any amount of alcohol was too much for Viper, no—and the couch was on the right side of too comfortable. His childhood friend—who was using him as a human pillow at the moment—didn’t mind; in fact, he’d more or less encouraged what-seemed-to-be-becoming his new habit of sleeping over, especially after everything had turned to shit. It was Viper himself who didn’t want to get used to this. This wasn’t how he did this sort of thing, how he dealt with whatever was going on at the time.

Staring into his empty glass but too lazy to pour himself a refill, the brunet felt something poke him in the side. “Call ‘im,” the bassist uttered, putting an end to his not-so-pleasant thoughts as he nudged him yet again with his phone while he scrolled through various social media platforms on his own device. “‘S already late ‘nough to satisfy your sadism…call the poor guy.”

Not feeling like debating his preference for sexual practices, the guitarist grunted before taking the cell. The email Killian had sent was still waiting for him behind the lock screen, Halo’s videos beckoning him for an encore—

Flicking the app closed, Viper found the number he wanted to dial from the list of his contacts and put it on speaker. His friend’s dirty-blond-wreathed head which had been leaning against his bicep perked up as the call rang but no one answered until—

_ “Hello?” _

“You available tomorrow at 11?” Not missing a beat, Viper asked, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at a corner of his lips at Halo’s tone.

_ “W-what?” _

_ God, he makes it so easy.  _ “The band wants to see where this thing goes. So, 11 okay?” It was a full-fledged smirk now, and a part of him wondered if their potential lead singer could hear it in his voice. But apparently, the aforementioned man was too flummoxed because…

_ “Wait…You want me?” _

_ Oh, he could do this all day.  _ “You sound surprised.”

_ “Uh, yeah.” _

There was an infinitesimal pause, during which Viper contemplated how or when the smirk on his lips had morphed into a genuine smile. So, when he uttered  _ ‘Don’t be’ _ it wasn’t an attempt to tease the individual on the other side of the line, but something—

Killian started jostling against him in an attempt to get up. “Give it here, V,” snatching the phone from his hand once he was properly seated, his childhood friend gave him yet another long, unimpressed look. “You’re gonna give the guy a heart attack.” 

Rolling his eyes, Viper crossed his arms over his chest, cocking a mahogany eyebrow as he challenged the other occupant of the penthouse to do a better job than he had. 

But his opponent had already averted his attention back to the device he’d so disrespectfully stolen. “Jade, it’s Killian. You fuckin’ rocked it, man. We can’t wait to hear what else you can do.” When no further reply was forthcoming, the bassist continued, “So, eleven tomorrow, yeah? We’ll be rehearsing at my place. Got a pen?”

There was some rustling on the other side of the line, a muffled squeal that made both their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines. As they awaited Halo’s reply together with equally intrigued expressions, curious as to what was going on over there, the aforementioned man finally broke the silence.

_ “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.” _

“Okay, it’s 30 Park Place, between Church Street and Broadway. There’s a subway station right around the corner, but I don’t know if—”

_“That works, I’ll be there,”_ there was another pause, but before long, Halo repeated what he’d told them earlier that day while shaking Viper’s hand, just as solemn. _“Thank you for the opportunity, for everything.”_

And just as the guitarist had said earlier, holding onto the proffered hand as he’d let his eyes roam over the younger man’s form, he thought:

_ Hope to see more of you, Jade. A lot more. _


End file.
